


Blood for Blood

by yutorin



Series: The Heisei Kumi [11]
Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr., Ya-ya-yah (Band)
Genre: Children Committing Murder, Found Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kitchen Knives, Mentioned Murdered Children, Originally Posted in 2016, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 16:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yutorin/pseuds/yutorin
Summary: Yuto had been working toward revenge ever since his brother's death, and tonight he was going to finally get it.





	Blood for Blood

"Yuto, where are you going?" The words made Yuto freeze, his fingers clenching tighter around the handle of the kitchen knife he'd half hidden inside his jacket. He'd almost made it all the way out the door. Crap. He turned around slowly, peering around the edge of the door, working to keep his torso behind it. Shoon had been clearing the table after their family dinner, the other three boys still playing a surprisingly rowdy game of poker in the living room. Yuto had thought he could slip away when they were all occupied, and now he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Shoon was giving him a wide eyed look of concern, and it was almost guilt inducing. The older boy reminded Yuto of his mom when he'd give him looks like that.

"Um...the park?" He said the first kid-friendly place he could think of, arranging his face into one of his best expressions of blatant innocence―those had always worked on his mom. Shoon considered him for a moment, before saying informatively, as if Yuto had forgotten

"It's already dark." Yuto didn't respond, instead doubling his efforts at being as cute as possible and creating the perfect pleading pout, his heart racing in his chest, mind churning out a stream of panicked thoughts. He had to go. He couldn't miss this opportunity; he'd been working towards his night for too long. There was a long silence, the two of them looking at each other, waiting for one to give in, before Shoon shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "Okay, but be back by eleven. And be careful. Do you want someone to go with you?" Victory.

"I can take care of myself." Yuto reminded him, raising his eyebrows and smiling proudly. Shoon's grin grew warmer, and he nodded.

"I know, but ten year olds shouldn't have to take care of themselves Yuto; that's why Yabu, Hikaru, Taiyo, and I are all here." Yuto nodded, getting impatient.

"I'll be careful, I promise. Can I go now?" Shoon nodded, dismissing him and returning to the task of clearing the table, and Yuto finally slipped out of the house and into the cool October night. He made his way quickly through the streets, fingers wrapped tightly around the carving knife he'd stolen from the table after dinner had ended, the other boys too excited about the prospect of their poker game to notice. It felt rather perilous running with a large knife pressed up against his ribcage, and that tension only exacerbated the pounding of his heart in his chest. Anticipation and anxiety were swirling in an almost nauseating cocktail in his stomach as he got further and further away from the safety of the house.

He made his way across town and out of the boundaries of their territory, continuing for so long that he began to wonder if he'd missed it and gone too far when―out of the darkness―he spotted the storage garage he had been looking for, the one he'd seen his prey at only a few nights before. Yuto slipped inside, walking as quietly as he could to the far end and slipping in amongst a haphazard conglomeration of wooden crates to wait for the boy―his prey―to show up. The boy was old by Yuto's standards, probably almost twenty. Older than he deserved to be.

It was terrifying and exhilarating to know that the boy he'd been searching for for months would be here any minute. He was finally going to confront his brother's murderer, finally going to have the revenge he'd sought for months. Raiya had been killed almost four months previously, murdered in cold blood after he’d wandered off one evening at the park. Yuto had been only a few moments late, turning the corner to see a teen climbing into a van, Raiya’s perfect little body twisted and broken on the concrete. It had been the single worst night of Yuto’s life, and ever since then he’d been working toward his revenge.

The thoughts were focusing, and he perched on the balls of his feet, crouching so that just his eyes were peering over the top of the crates, waiting in the dark. It was only a few minutes―faster than Yuto felt prepared for―before the artificial lights flickered on, blindingly bright and harsh on the eyes. He scrunched his face up, ducking his head for a few moments, until he heard voices coming from the other end of the storage garage.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he was on high alert, his whole body tingling as he peered out over the tops of the crates. It was _him,_ him and two other guys, chatting and drinking beer as they meandered closer. Yuto's blood ran cold at the sight of his brother's killer. He looked different than Yuto remembered, everything slightly less demonic than Yuto had built him up to be in his head, and somehow that made him even worse. The group came closer and closer, and Yuto started to panic. He couldn't take on all three of those guys at the same time, and still do what he came to do. Even if he did manage to get his revenge, the ones left would surely kill him for it.

They stopped only a meter or so away, at the other end of the mass of crates, and Yuto crouched back down out of sight, watching their shadows on the floor, frozen still, his blood rushing in his ears. He clutched the knife flat to his chest, cradling it, as if it would bring him some form of comfort. This lasted for what felt like hours, Yuto watching with bated breath, his whole body tense, as the three teens talked and cursed and nursed their beers. Their conversation wandered from gossip to business, discussion of a shipment of some sort coming in a few days. Their words seemed slow to Yuto, and he willed them to _just go. Split up. Please._

He was beginning to give up when the teen’s conversation hit a lull, and there was the sound of an empty beer bottle hitting the wooden side of a crate, and a voice said

"Ready to go?"

"You go on ahead, I'm going to have one more smoke." Yuto leaned in closer, trying to distinguish which voice belonged to his target. There was still a chance things would go his way. He shivered a bit at the thought, his eyes fluttering shut as he listened.

"Suit yourself." A third voice said, and there was the sound of a bottle being broken, and some shuffling of feet, and Yuto watched as two of the shadows began retreating back the way the teens had come, leaving him alone with one shadow on the ground, the owner still only a meter or so away. He felt almost numb with tension as he repositioned himself, carefully peering up over the boxes to see which of the teens had stayed back. It was _him._ Anticipation and dread froze him there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The guy had his back turned, and as Yuto watched he took a drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke out into the cool night air. He shuffled, shoes twisting on the concrete, the sound loud in the silence, the only other noise the hum of the lights illuminating the storage garage. It was the perfect moment, he told himself. There was no going back now. He rose to his feet, walking quietly, doing his best not to be heard, and he lowered the hand gripping the knife. His sleeve rubbed on his jacket, the nylon making a high pitched whistling sound, and in that moment Yuto felt a fear stronger than any he'd felt before engulf him, because the murderer had to have heard that. And now―

Yuto's prey turned glancing over his shoulder and in a split second Yuto dropped all pretense of stealth, running as fast as he could and thrusting the knife into the guy's side. It was hard, jarringly hard to force the blade into his flesh, between his ribs. The man let out a strangled yell, but he didn't move to retaliate, perhaps still in shock, still processing what was happening to him. That gave Yuto more confidence, and he grabbed the handle of the knife with both hands, yanking it back out of the man's side to thrust it back in, right into his gut.

The man flailed, and Yuto was terrified, adrenaline coursing through him, and he moved in a manic frenzy, taking the blade and stabbing his brother's killer repeatedly, not stopping even when the guy fell to the ground, instead climbing on top of him and bringing the blade down with even more force. He was covered in blood, his hands and his arms and his clothes all soaked in the guy's blood, the knife slippery and hard to grasp after a while. The frenzy eventually slowed, Yuto noticing suddenly that he was crying, sobbing loudly, guttural noises of grief falling from his lips and echoing off of the walls, his whole face covered in blood and tears and snot.

It was then that he finally realized that the guy was dead, his cold eyes staring blankly up at Yuto, his mouth open in a silent tortured scream, his torso a mess of blood and flesh and the mangled fabric of his shirt, fragments of glass from the shattered beer bottle digging into his arms. Slowly, on shaky legs Yuto got to his feet, letting the knife fall to the concrete floor with a metallic clang, it's blade and handle gleaming red in the artificial lighting of the storage garage. He wiped at his face, smearing the tears and snot and getting a streak of warm, tacky blood on his cheeks for his efforts. He took some deep breaths, trying to calm down. Telling himself that it was over. That he'd done it. He'd succeeded.

He'd thought there would be a gratifying wave of relief and contentment after he'd finally killed this guy. He'd thought that he could go home to his parents after this, and be happy again. Happy like he had been before Raiya's murder. He didn't feel any of those things. He was still overwhelmingly _sad,_ still angry, and lonely, and the ache in his chest that had been there since Raiya's death hadn't gone away like he'd thought it would. The thought of returning to his parents just made him feel afraid and sick. It was disappointing, frustratingly so, and he had to resist the urge to cry and yell. He told himself that despite his frustrations it was good that the scumbag was dead. No more children would fall victim to this guy. Yuto just wished it felt better.

He took a few moments, looking down at the wrecked corpse, trying to collect his thoughts and fight his nausea, because it still wasn’t over. Now he had a new task. Now he had to hide the body. He grimaced, squared his shoulders, and grabbed one of the body's arms, going around by the head and pulling, knowing that he was close to the coast, planning on pushing the remains into the ocean. But his first tug got him nowhere. The body was much heavier than he’d been anticipating, and he started to get anxious again. He’d told Shoon he would be home by eleven. He didn’t have time to waste struggling with this dead weight.

He grabbed at the arm with both hands and set his legs, using his full body weight to pull, and the corpse began to move, scraping along the concrete, the fabric of his clothes catching on the ground, the glass digging in and creating even more friction as blood ran from the wounds and onto the floor. It was hard work, and Yuto could feel his muscles straining as he pulled, could feel a sweat beginning to break out on his forehead even with the cool autumn air. His heart rate was picking up the longer he worked, anxiety beginning to run through him like a current. He’d _killed a guy._ He’d killed a guy, and now he was _dragging the body around._ He was going to be caught. He was going to be _killed_ for this. Oh god. What was he going to do? Had he stayed too long? Was it worth trying to hide the corpse, or should he just run?

He was panicking, and he dug his fingers into the flesh of the corpse’s arm harder, and tugged more fiercely, feeling jittery and afraid. He was leaving a trail of blood in his wake, and he’d barely gotten the corpse two meters across the floor when he heard a voice, his whole body freezing up, his heart in his throat, nausea and terror hitting him in a petrifying wave. He looked up, across the storage garage’s open space, to see one of the dead guy’s friends coming closer. The guy didn’t seem to have seen him yet, but he would in a moment. The thought was still registering when their eyes met. Yuto didn’t consider his appearance in the slightest, his bloody visage not even crossing his mind. He was blinded by fear, his mind a blank panic.

Yuto bolted, running away, toward the back exit, toward the ocean where he’d been planning on hiding the evidence of his crime, leaving everything behind him as there was a shout, and then a blood curdling shriek. The noise sent a jolt through him and he physically jumped, tripping over his own feet and stumbling for a moment before continuing on. He ran, his throat prickling and burning with the threat of even more tears, the blood on his skin crusting, drying and beginning to flake off in the October wind. He slowed once he reached familiar territory, feeling safer surrounded by buildings he knew. He made his way home, and he found himself standing on the front step, hoping that Shoon wouldn’t be up waiting for him.

When he opened the door he heard the voices of the other boys coming from the second story, and he dashed across the living room to the small half bathroom tucked in by the washing machine, still tense until he shut the door, feeling safe for the first time since he’d left. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had barely been an hour. He stripped down, washing his face and arms and working hard to get under his fingernails and clean out all of the blood, before putting his soiled clothes in the wash, having to get on the balls of his feet and jump to reach the button to start the washing machine.

That night he brushed his teeth with the rest of the boys, and as they joked around and spoiled him he felt himself starting to calm. So what if everything hadn’t worked out perfectly. He’d done it. He’d avenged his brother’s death. And no one could find him here. Maybe he didn’t have to go back home. He could stay here. They cared about him here, and it was a good place to live. It was a safe place. He could stay here, and no one could trace that dead teen back to him. He had a new life with these boys, new brothers, a second chance, and this time he wouldn’t screw it up.

That comforting train of thought only lasted a few days before it was trashed. He had been on his way to bed, joking with Taiyo when there was the sudden sound of yelling coming from the lower floor. It was a panicked, angry sound, and Taiyo fell silent, the other boys emerging from their rooms, everyone conglomerating in a mass at the top of the staircase, peering down at what little they could see. There was a moment of disbelief, the four of them frozen as they registered that there were _people_ in their home, unwelcome people. There was a yelp, Shoon’s voice raised high as if he was in pain, and that noise set them all in motion, sprinting down the stairs.

There was panic and confusion tangible in the air, and it wasn’t until Yuto was down on ground level that he realized that he’d seen two of their attackers before. He’d caught glimpses of them from over the tops of wooden crates. They must have found him somehow, the way he’d found his prey. He felt a wave of nausea hit him, and he knew, as he glanced around, and saw Hikaru being tackled to the ground, Shoon already tussling with an enemy―that this was because of him. He was the reason they’d come. He’d brought this upon his companions. If they got hurt it would be because of him. That understanding was a sickeningly heavy weight in his gut. This was all his fault.


End file.
